Golden Throne
by IAmKanye
Summary: Lucie Lovelace never believed in the prospects of true love. Until Mark Blackthorn came running into her life- literally. But theres a stronger force at play than faith and Lucie faces a problem to follow her new family or avenge her old family?
1. Prologue

**Wow so I brought this back because I'm back into the series, lol enjoy (also pls don't attack about Mark he is bi)**

Pulling on the buckle of the nameless mans belt, flashes of the blonde- almost white haired Blackthorn glare at her from behind her tightly clamped eyes. The mans unnecessary pants fill the air as he struggles to remove his too tight skinny jeans. Letting the jeans fall to his ankles, he dives back in shoving his face into her pelvis making her jump at the sudden contact.

"You like that, baby?" He grins up at her, showing a glimpse of his newly blood stained fangs, she smiles at him and raises her hand up to her collarbone feeling where his incisors pierced the skin. "You know when they said Shadowhunters tasted the best, I never believed them until now,"

"That's cute," She whispers out, feeling the Vampire trail his tongue up her thigh making the girls breaths come out in quick, sorrowful puffs of air. His tongue reach the barrier that separates her from his own small mission to which she only complied to rid herself of the soft touches that haunted her mind every night. "Please,"

"Tsk, Tsk," He grins up at her, his eyes glinting green in the moonlight. "It's a full moon tomorrow night, I want to enjoy my fill," Within a blink of an eye, her underwear was torn from her and thrown across the room making the lethargic girl lean up a little to see what he was doing. "I'll be taking all the time I need,"

She clamps her eyes shut as the pain strikes through her lower stomach before letting her face relax, giving him the impression that she was enjoying it. Slowly, his finger built up speed before her release arrived and she was a bundle of exploding nerves, imploding quicker than a burst bag of water.

"Glad to know I still got it," He smirks at her before licking a spot on her hip, her eyes watch as his fangs slowly sink into the unmarked skin. He lowers his mouth fully before cupping his lips around the incision and sucking in the fresh forming blood that's now coursing through her veins, thanks to the regeneration rune that lays against her left shoulder blade. "Who knew a Herondale would come so quickly?"

"I'm not a Herondale," She whispers out, Tiredness leaking into her body. "I'm a Lovelace, through and through,"

"Sure, Darling," He replies, licking his lips before catching the look on her face. "Oh sweetie no, You came here to forget someone and I plan to make you forget he ever existed,"

If only he knew how wrong he was, the man she needed to forget wouldn't leave her mind, no matter how hard she tried, Mark Blackthorn made it a habit of being lodged within her soul.

His touches were ghosted into her skin, his kisses a permanent tattoo on her lips and his eyes were embedded in her brain, never going to leave again.

Mark Blackthorn was her literal drug, he was her addiction, he was the reason she wanted to wake up in the morning but once again she's been let down by the people she needs most.

Ignoring the pulsing pain blooming in her chest, she slides her hand onto the back of the mans neck before pulling his head down to hers, reconnecting their lips with a silent promise to herself; _never will I ever let Mark Blackthorn lay a hand on me._


	2. Chapter One

**CHAPTER ONE: "HE'S NOT GINGER, HE'S STRAWBERRY BLONDE!"**

"It's just not working out," Emma said into her phone, rolling her eyes up towards the darkening sky. "This relationship, I mean,"

Mumbles come from her phone, unintelligible to Lucie and Cristina. Emma walks forward slightly glancing over the edge of the building, watching the dressed up men and women bustle below in the booked area. A glint rolls through Emma's eye- the familiar glint of wanting to wreck the peaceful atmosphere.

Emma sighs and turns towards the two girls, watching as they both exchange humoured glances. "All right, our relationship," she said. "Our relationship isn't working out,"

"Emma," Cristina hissed at her, eyes widening at her blunt approach. Emma turned slowly, balancing on the edge of the building. Cristina and Lucie were sitting on the sloped roof, Cristina delved her attention back to the knife in her hand, slowly polishing it with the blue cloth given to her earlier by Lucie. While Lucie on the other hand ties and unties her laces from the immense boredom. "Emma, remember. Use your I statements,"

Cameron continued his speech on the phone, most likely refusing to being broke up with again, but Emma could care less, her eyes were drawn to the area around the club searching for proof of whatever lies Johnny Rook told her this time. "Tell him it's you, not him," Lucie chuckles, tightening the strings on her laces for the final time. "It always works for me,"

"This is about me, not you," Emma speaks into the phone, raising her eyebrows at the two girls. Seeing Christina's thumbs up and Lucie's wink, she continues. "I am sick of you,"

Cristina drops her head into her hands and Lucie just chuckles before walking to the position Emma previously held, ignoring the shit eating grin that graced her face. "So maybe we could go back to being friends?" Emma tucked the phone into her back pocket with a huff before walking over to stand beside Lucie.

"I knew you were straightforward," Lucie speaks into the silence. "But I never knew you packed such a punch," Emma's eyes scan the ground a final time before she groans in exasperation and crawls up to sit beside Cristina. "Well, that could've gone better,"

"Do you think so?" Cristina asks sarcastically, ignoring the cough of laughter that escaped Lucie. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Emma sighs and reaches for her stele, the precious item that gave shadowhunters their angelic abilities. Emma's stele had been a gift from the one and only Jace Herondale, a crush both herself and Lucie shared. "It always happens," Lucie mumbles before turning to face them with a teasing look. "Everything's fine in Emaron land and then the next day Emma wakes up, realises gingers aren't her thing and breaks it off. It's been a repetitive cycle for the past six months, I may not speak a lot but I'm very observant,"

"He's not ginger," Emma exclaims, a horrified look climbing onto her face. "He's strawberry blonde,"

"And I'm gonna meet the man of my dreams this week," Lucie chuckle back to her, crossing her arms over her chest. "I tried, I really did. I waited weeks! I kept hoping it would get better, that maybe his voice wouldn't make me feel sick to my stomach. But it didn't,"

"I know, _cuata_ ," Cristina patted Emma's arm, a comforting gesture she's shown an awful lot lately. "You just aren't very good at having…,"

"Tact?" Emma suggested. Cristina's accent was so perfect it sometimes made Lucie forget the fact that it wasn't Cristina's first language, in fact it was her seventh. Lucie could speak three different languages. English, French and Lithuanian but could also swear in seven different demon languages.

"I was going to say relationships," Cristina said, her dark brown eyes twinkled. "I've only been here for two months and you've forgotten three dates with Cameron, skipped his birthday, and now you've dumped him because it was a slow patrol night,"

"He always wanted to play video games," Emma said, her nose crinkling with distaste. "I hate video games,"

"No one is perfect, Emma," Cristina reminds her softly. "Except Lucie,"

"But some people are perfect for each other. Don't you think that has to be true?" Emma asks making Lucie roll her eyes back, thinking about the undeniable tension between Emma and her Parabatai, Julian.

A strange look passes over Cristina's face, the face Lucie often associated with Emma's nostalgic thoughts. It was times like this that Lucie was reminded that no matter how close she felt to Cristina, she didn't know her- didn't know her the way she knew Emma, the knowing of everything since they were both young girls. Whatever had Cristina running from Mexico to Los Angeles- Leaving behind her family and friends- wasn't something on her nor Cristina's list of things to share over a tub of Cookie Nut ice cream.

"Well," Cristina drawls. "At least you were wise enough to bring us along for moral support to help you through this difficult time," In response, Emma jabs Cristina with her stele.

"I wasn't planning on dumping Cameron. We were here, and he called, and his face came up on my phone- well actually a llama came up on my phone because I didn't have a picture of him so I just used the llama- and the llama made me so angry I just couldn't help myself,"

"Bad time to be a llama,"

"Is it ever a good time, really?" Emma asks, placing the stele against her pale skin. Lucie's eyes follow her patterns, noticing the way that Emma held the object like it was an everyday pen, no matter how many times Julian corrected her, Emma never listened.

Thinking about the Blackthorns always made Lucie sad, not in the way Emma always longed for them but Lucie always longed for the younger Blackthorns. She's missed the wakeup calls and late nights they gave her, she missed cooking family meals and telling each other about their days.

The Blackthorns lost their parents in the Dark War against Sebastian's forces, that was around the time Lucie was shipped to the institute due to the "death" of her parents.

But Lucie knew better than that, every year she places in a new request to search for her parents and every year the clave tell her the same thing; Sebastian murdered them. Even from the young age of twelve Lucie knew something was up and the Blackthorns were nothing but supportive and patient, especially since Lucie had just been thrust into this huge, loud, loving family from her small, silent only child life.

It hadn't been easy for her, but they were her everything.

And she was lost without them.

They had left at the beginning of the summer to visit their great-aunt in England. Marjorie, Tiberius had explained, was over hundreds of years old and might die at any moment, so it was mandatory for them to visit. It was against their morality not to visit.

That was one of the things she missed the most, the late night chats with Ty and his bluntness.

Off they went though for two month, everyone except Christina, Emma, Lucie and the Blackthorns late uncle who locked himself away in the attic. The shock to Lucie had been stifling. The bustling institute had changed into the silent vacant building.

Cristina had travelled from New Mexico, a tradition most shadowhunters held was travelling to different institutes to see the different living systems. Cristina had the horrible luck of coming here, to Los Angeles.

Cristina had come running into their lives at the same time Emma and Lucie were running from theirs, of course on the way they all crashed into each other and became an immediate little group of best friends.

"Diana will be pleased with you dumping Cameron," Said Cristina. "I don't think she liked him,"

Diana was their tutor, the woman who gave Lucie so much hassle she wanted to run away. She was smart, extremely stern and extremely tired of Lucie's failed attempts of dodging rune practice.

"Diana thinks all relationships are a distraction from studying," Emma coughed out. "Why date when you can learn an extra demonic language? I mean, who wouldn't want to learn to say "come here often?" In purgatic,"

"You remind me of Jaime," Cristina laughed, eyes away from the girls, not noticing Emma's widened eyes and Lucie's warning ones. "He hated studying,"

Cristina's past was always a dodgy thing to bring up, she never liked us to know why she wanted to move and They both respected her privacy but Emma is too curious for her own health and always crossed the barrier. "But not Diego. He loved it, he did it for Extra Work,"

"Diego? The perfect guy? The one your mom loves?" Emma began to trace the stele over her skin, the Farsighted rune taking shape on her forearm.

Cristina reached over and took the stele from Emma. "Here. Let me do that." She continued the Farsighted rune. Cristina had a gorgeous hand with runes, careful and precise, almost as good as Lucie herself. "I don't want to talk about Perfect Diego," Cristina said. "My mother talks about him enough. Can I ask you about something else?"

Emma nodded. The pressure of the stele against her skin was familiar, almost pleasant.

"I know you wanted to come here because Johnny Rook told you that there have been bodies found with writing on them, and he thinks one will turn up here tonight."

"Correct."

"And you are hoping the writing will be the same as it was on your parents' bodies."

Lucie tensed. She couldn't help it. Any mention of Emma's parents' murders always affected Emma, often times spiralling her into depressive slots only Julian could pull her from. Even when the person asking her about it was as gentle as Cristina or as blunt as Lucie. "Yes."

"The Clave says Sebastian Morgenstern murdered your parents," said Cristina. "That is what Diana told me. That's what they believe. But you don't believe it."

"The Clave," Lucie scoffed out looking out into the Los Angeles night, at the brilliant splashes of electricity that was the skyline, at the rows and rows of billboards that lined Sunset Boulevard. "The Clave know nothing,"

The Clave was simply the government of the Nephilim, made up of all active Shadowhunters over the age of eighteen.

In theory every Shadowhunter had a vote and an equal voice. In point of fact, some Shadowhunters were more influential than others: Like any political party, the Clave had its corruption and prejudices.

The Clave had a motto: The Law is hard, but it is the Law.

Every Shadowhunter knew what it meant. The rules of the Law of the Clave had to be obeyed, no matter how hard or painful. The Law overrode everything else—personal need, grief, loss, unfairness, treachery. When the Clave had told Lucie that she was to accept the fact that her parents had been murdered during the Dark War, she had been expected to do so.

She hadn't.

"No," Lucie said slowly. "Don't believe a think the clave says."

Cristina sat with the stele motionless in her hand, the rune unfinished. The adamas gleamed in the moonlight. "Could you tell me why?"

"Sebastian Morgenstern was building an army," Emma said, still looking out at the sea of lights. "He took Shadowhunters and turned them into monsters that served him. He didn't mark them up with demon languages written on their bodies and then dump them in the ocean. When the Nephilim tried to move my parents' bodies, they dissolved. That didn't happen to any of Sebastian's victims." She moved her finger along a roof tile. "And—it's a feeling. Not a passing feeling. Something I've always believed. I believe it more every day. I believe my parents' deaths were different. And that laying them at Sebastian's door means—" She broke off with a sigh. "I'm sorry. I'm just rambling. Look, this is probably going to be nothing. You shouldn't worry about it."

"I worry about you," Cristina said, but she laid the stele back against Emma's skin and finished the rune without another word. It was something that Emma and Lucie appreciated about Cristina—she never pressed or pressured.

Emma glanced down in appreciation as Cristina sat back, done with her work. "The only person I know who draws better runes than you do is Lucie or Julian," she said. "But he's an artist—"

"Julian, Julian, Julian," echoed Lucie in a teasing voice. "Julian is a painter, Julian is a genius, Julian would know how to fix this, Julian could build that, Julian could help you with your studies, Julian can help you. You know, for the past seven weeks I've heard so many wonderful things about Julian I'm starting to worry that when he comes back I'll fall in love with him."

Emma brushed her gritty hands carefully down her legs. "I don't think he's your type," she said. "But he's my parabatai, so I'm not objective."

"What she really means is-,"

"Shut up!"

Cristina handed Emma's stele back to her. "I always wanted a parabatai," she said a little wistfully. "Someone who is sworn to protect you and to watch your back. A best friend forever, for your whole life."

A best friend forever, for your whole life.

When Lucies parents had disappeared, she'd fought to stay within Idris. Partly because she'd lost everything familiar to her and she couldn't bear the thought of starting over, and partly because she wasn't known to be the nicest person around.

She thought it might have been awkward at first in the Institute due to the whole institute being run by a family, but they all welcomed her with open arms.

Emma stood up, sliding her stele into her weapons belt. "Well, the Blackthorns are coming back the day after tomorrow. You'll meet Jules then." She moved back toward the edge of the roof, and this time she heard the scrape of boots on tile that told her Cristina was behind her. "That'll give you enough time to confess your undying love, Do you see anything?"

"Maybe there's nothing going on." Cristina shrugged. "Maybe it's just a party."

"Johnny Rook was so sure," muttered Emma.

"Emma, By the Angel," Lucie grains out. "His last name is rook, which is eerily similar to what he is, a crook. Don't believe what he says, he deals with dirty money,"

"Didn't Diana specifically forbid you to go see him too?"

"She may have told me to stop seeing him," Emma acknowledged. "She may even have called him 'a criminal who commits crime,' which I have to say struck me as harsh, but she didn't say I couldn't go to the Shadow Market."

"Because everyone already knows Shadowhunters aren't meant to go to the Shadow Market."

Emma ignored this. "And if I ran into Rook, say, at the Market, and he dropped some information while we were chatting and I accidentally let drop some money, who's to call that 'paying for information'? Just two friends, one careless with his gossip and the other one careless with her finances . . ."

"That's not the spirit of the Law, Emma. Remember? The Law is hard, but it is the Law."

"I thought it was 'the Law is annoying, but it is also flexible.'"

"That is not the motto. And Diana is going to kill you."

"Not if we solve the murders, she won't. The ends will justify the means. And if nothing happens, she never has to know about it. Right?"

Cristina didn't say anything.

"Right . . . ?" Emma said.

Cristina gave an intake of breath. "Do you see?" she asked, pointing.

Lucie saw. She saw a tall man, handsome, with pale skin and carefully tailored clothes, moving among the crowd. As he went, men and women turned to look after him, their faces slack with fascination.

"There is a glamour on him," Lucie said. Emma quirked an eyebrow, noting to ask her later how she managed to notice it that quickly. Glamours were illusion magic, commonly used by Downworlders to hide themselves from mundane eyes. Shadowhunters also had access to Marks that had much the same effect, though Nephilim didn't consider that magic. Magic was warlock business; runes were a gift from the Angel. "The question is, vampire or fey?"

Emma hesitated. The man was approaching a young woman in towering heels, a glass of champagne in her hand. Her face went blank as soon as he spoke to her. She nodded agreeably, reached up, and undid the chunky gold necklace she was wearing. She dropped it into his outstretched hand, a smile on her face as he slid it into his pocket.

"Fey," Lucie said, reaching for her weapons belt. Faeries complicated everything. According to the Law of the Cold Peace, an underage Shadowhunter shouldn't have anything to do with faeries at all. Faeries were off-limits, the cursed and forbidden branch of Downworlders, ever since the Cold Peace, which had ripped away their rights, their armies, and their possessions. Their ancient lands were no longer considered theirs, and other Downworlders fought over who could claim them. Trying to calm such battles was a great part of the business of the Los Angeles Institute, but it was adult business.

Shadowhunters Lucie's age weren't meant to engage directly with faeries.

In theory.

The Law is annoying, but it is flexible, is how Emma lived life, she choose to alter what the clave said. On the other hand, Lucie had chosen to ignore the clave altogether. If the Clave didn't help her find her parent, then Lucie wasn't helping them.

Emma drew a small cloth bag, tied at the top, out of a pouch attached to her belt. She began to flick it open as the fey moved from the smiling woman to a slender man in a black jacket, who willingly handed over his sparkling cuff links. "Vampires don't care about gold, but the Fair Folk pay tribute to their King and Queen in gold and gems and other treasure."

"I have heard the Court of the Unseelie pays it in blood," said Cristina grimly.

"Not tonight," Emma said, flicking the bag she was holding open and upending the contents onto the faerie's head.

Cristina gasped in horror as the fey below them gave a hoarse cry, his glamour falling away from him like a snake shedding its skin.

A chorus of shrieks went up from the crowd as the fey's true appearance was revealed. Branches grew like twisted horns from his head, and his skin was the dark green of moss, cracked all over like aged bark. His hands were spatulate claws, three-fingered.

"Emma," Cristina warned. "We should stop this now—call the Silent Brothers—"

But Lucie had already jumped.

For a moment she was weightless, gliding through the air. Then she struck the ground, knees bent as she'd been taught.

Lucie rose to her feet, feeling the thrum of adrenaline that comes with being a shadowhunter, turned to face the faerie across the fleeing crowd. Gleaming from his barklike face, his eyes were yellow as a cat's. "Shadowhunter," he hissed.

The partygoers continued to flee from the courtyard through the gates that led into the parking lot. None of them saw Lucie, though their instincts kicked in anyway, making them pass around her like water around ship in a river.

Lucie reached back over her shoulder and closed her hand around the hilt of her seraph blade. The blade made a silver blur in the air as she drew it and pointed the tip at the fey. "No," she said. "Its Halloween, this is my costume."

The faerie looked puzzled.

Emma sighed behind her. "It's so hard to be sassy to the Fair Folk. You people never get jokes."

"We are well known for our jests, japes, and ballads," the faerie said, clearly offended. "Some of our ballads last for weeks."

"I don't have that kind of time," Lucie said. "I'm a Shadowhunter. Quip fast, die young." She wiggled the blades tip impatiently. "Now turn out your pockets."

"I have done nothing to break the Cold Peace," said the fey.

"Technically true, but we do frown on stealing from mundanes," Emma said. "Turn out your pockets or I'll rip off one of your horns and shove it where the sun doesn't shine."

The fey looked puzzled. "Where does the sun not shine? Is this a riddle?"

Lucie gave a sorrowful sigh and raised he sword. "Turn them out, or I'll start peeling your bark off. You didn't laugh at my jokes and that pissed me off,"

The faerie began slowly to empty his pockets onto the ground, glaring at her all the while. "I'm guessing you're single?" he said. "I never would have guessed."

A gasp sounded from above. "Now that is simply rude," said Cristina, leaning over the edge of the roof.

"Thank you, Cristina," Lucie said. "That was a low blow. And for your information, faerie guy, She broke up with her boyfriend only a few minutes ago and you're being insensitive,"

The faerie shrugged. It was a remarkably expressive shrug, managing to convey several different kinds of not caring at once.

"Although I don't know why she did," Cristina said. "He was very nice."

"Guys, not the time to talk about this,"

The faerie was still dumping his loot—earrings, expensive leather wallets, diamond rings tumbled to the ground in a sparkling cacophony. Lucie braced herself. She didn't really care about the jewelry. She was looking towards Emma, awaiting for the signal to attack. "The Ashdowns and the Carstairs don't get along," she said. "It's a well-known fact."

At that the faerie seemed to freeze in place. "Carstairs," he spat, his yellow eyes fixed on Emma. "You are Emma Carstairs?"

Emma blinked, thrown. She glanced up; Cristina had disappeared from the edge of the roof. "I really don't think we've met. I'd remember a talking tree."

"Would you?" Spatulate hands twitched at the faerie's side. "I would have expected more courteous treatment. Or have you and your Institute friends forgotten Mark Blackthorn so quickly?"

"Mark?" Lucie asked confused, her eyes locked onto Emmas frozen figure. In that moment, something glittering hurtled toward her face. The fey had whipped a diamond necklace at her. She ducked, but the edge of the chain caught her cheek. She felt a stinging pain and the warmth of blood.

She bolted upright, but the fey was gone. She swore, wiping at the blood on her face. "Lucie!" It was Cristina, who had made it down from the roof and was standing by a barred door in the wall. An emergency exit. "He went through here!"

Emma and Lucie dashed toward her and together they kicked open the door and burst out into the alley behind the bar. It was surprisingly dark; someone had smashed the nearby streetlights. Dumpsters shoved against the wall reeked of spoiled food and alcohol. Lucie felt her Farsighted rune burn; at the very end of the alley, she saw the silhouette of the fey spring toward the left.

She set off after him, Cristina by her side along with Emma. She had spent so much of her life running with Cavill that she had no difficulty keeping in time with the others; she pushed ahead, running flat out. Faeries were fast, notoriously so. The trio rounded the next corner, where the alley narrowed. The fleeing fey had shoved two Dumpsters together to block their path. Lucie flung herself under, using the Dumpsters to slide herself under.

She Skid forward and crashed into something soft. Pushing her hand into the dark her hand ran across the blockade.

Cloth. Clothes. Clothes on a human body. Wet clothes. The stench of seawater and rot was everywhere. She looked down into a dead and bloated face.

Lucie bit down on a yell. A moment later there was another clang and Cristina and Emma dropped down beside her. Lucie heard Cristina breathe an astonished exclamation in Spanish and Emma gasp out a crude word.

Then Cristina's arms were around her, pulling her away from the body, but her eyes wouldn't leave the body.

The body was undeniably human. A middle-aged man, round-shouldered, his silvery hair worn like the mane of a lion. Patches of his skin were burned, black and red, bubbles rising where the burns were worst, like lather on a bar of soap.

His gray shirt was torn open, and across his chest and arms marched lines of black runes, not the runes of Shadowhunters, but a twisted demon script. Not one Lucie could understand but one that was all too familiar.

It was the same script that was plastered on the parents of Emma.

"Are you all right?" Cristina asked.

The first thing Lucie had done as soon as she'd been able to think clearly was summon the Brothers and Diana. Now she was second-guessing that decision. The Silent Brothers had arrived instantly and were all over the body, sometimes turning to speak to each other in their soundless voices as they searched and examined and took notes. .

"I'm furious," Emma said, pacing up and down the length of the alley. "I have to see those markings. I have to take photos of them. It's my parents that were killed. Not that the Silent Brothers care. I only ever knew one decent Silent Brother and he quit being one."

Cristina's eyes widened. Somehow she had managed to keep her gear clean through all of this, and she looked fresh and pink-cheeked. Lucie imagined she herself, with her hair sticking out in every direction and alley dirt smeared on her clothes. "I didn't think it was something you could just stop doing."

The Silent Brothers were Shadowhunters who had chosen to retreat from the world, like monks, and devote themselves to study and healing. They occupied the Silent City, the vast underground caverns where most Shadowhunters were buried when they died. Their terrible scars were the result of runes too strong for most human flesh, even that of Shadowhunters, but it was also the runes that made them nearly immortal.

The alley suddenly lit up like daylight. Blinking, Their heads turned to see that a familiar pickup truck had pulled into the alley's entrance. It came to a stop, headlights still on, and Diana Wrayburn jumped down from the driver's seat.

When Diana had come to work as the tutor to the children of the Los Angeles Institute five years ago, Lucie had thought she was the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen. She was tall and spare and elegant, with the silvery tattoo of a koi fish standing out across the dark skin of one arched cheekbone. Her eyes were brown with flecks of green in them, and right now they were flashing with angry fire. She was wearing an ankle-length black dress that fell around her long body in elegant folds.

She looked like the dangerous Roman goddess of the hunt she was named for.

"Emma! Cristina! Lucie!" She hurried toward them. "What happened? Are you all right?"

For a moment Lucie paused the glaring and let herself enjoy being hugged fiercely. Diana had always been too young for them to think of her as a mother, but an older sister, maybe. Someone over-protective. Diana let go of her and hugged Cristina and Emma too, who both looked startled. Lucie had the suspicion that there hadn't been much hugging in Cristina's home. "What happened? Why are you trying to burn a hole through Brother Enoch with your eyeballs?"

"We were patrolling—" Emma began.

"We saw a fey stealing from humans," Cristina added quickly.

"Yes, and I stopped him and told him to turn out his pockets—"

"A faerie?" A look of disquiet came over Diana's face. "Lucie, you know you shouldn't confront one of the Fair Folk, even when Cristina's with you—"

"I've fought Fair Folk before," Lucie said. It was true. Both she, Emma Diana had fought in the Shadowhunter city of Alicante when Sebastian's forces had attacked. The streets had been full of faerie warriors. The adults had taken the children and walled them up in the fortresslike Hall of Accords, where they were meant to be safe.

But the faeries had broken the locks. . . .

Diana had been there, laying to the right and left of her with her deadly sword, saving the lives of many of the children. Lucie had been one of those saved. She had loved Diana since then, even though she never really showed it.

"I had a feeling," Emma went on, "that something bigger and worse was happening. We followed the faerie when he ran. We know weI shouldn't have, but—Lucie found that body. And it's covered in the same marks my parents' bodies were. The same markings, Diana."

Diana turned to Cristina and Lucie. "Could you give us a moment alone, please?"

They hesitated. But as a guest of the Los Angeles Institute and someone who already is in a lot of trouble, they were required to do as the senior staff of the Institute requested. With a glance at Emma, they moved away, toward the spot where the body still lay. It was surrounded by a ring of Silent Brothers, like a flock of pale birds in their parchment robes. They were sprinkling a sort of shimmering powder over the markings, or at least that's how it looked.

"I'm gonna take some pictures," Lucie mumbles, pulling her phone from the back of her jeans. "Cover me, please?"

Cristina smiled and turned her body sideways, protecting Lucie's phone from the eyes of the Silent Brothers. "You are very unsettling," Cristina breaks the silence, making my eyes snap up to hers.

"I'll take that as a compliment,"

"I didn't mean to offend you," Cristina chuckles, moving alongside Lucie. "What I'm trying to say is that you are perfect. You're an amazing fighter, you have no fear, you're confident in what you do, you're loved by the institute, you speak fourteen different languages, there isn't a fault in you. That's very unsettling to know that there is a perfect shadowhunter,"

"I may seem it but I'm not perfect," Lucie sighs, closing down her phone and pushing it back into the pocket. "I've been here for the past four years, I've been a sister for Emma and basically took care of the Blackthorns with Julian, I've learned to put my feelings out of the way,"

"Tina, come here for a moment,"

Diana headed off toward a private area. By the time Lucie joined Emma at the car Diana had parked, Cristina had joined her, and they both climbed in silently.

Lucie sat where she was for a moment, drained, watching the car keys dangling from Emma's hand. In the rearview mirror she could see the alleyway behind them, lit up like a stadium by the truck's powerful headlights.

"Are you all right?" Cristina said.

Emma turned to her. "You have to tell me what you saw," she begged. "You were close to the body. Did you hear Diana say anything to the Brothers? Are they definitely the same markings?"

"I don't need to tell you," Cristina said.

"I—" Emma broke off.. "I know you don't. I'm really sorry, Cristina. I didn't mean to get you in trouble. It's just that—"

"I didn't say that." Cristina fumbled in the pocket of her gear. "I said I didn't need to tell you, because I meant I could show you. Here. Look at these, Lucie took them." She held out Lucie's phone, making Lucie's hand slap onto her back pocket and sigh once she can't feel the familiar press of metal.

"Cristina, I love you," Emma said. "I will marry you. Marry me."

Cristina giggled. "My mother's already picked out who I'm going to marry, remember? Imagine what she'd say if I brought you home."

"You don't think she'd like me more than Perfect Diego?"

"I think you would be able to hear her screaming in Idris."

Idris was the home country of the Shadowhunters, where they had first been created, where the Clave held its seat. It was tucked away at the intersection of France, Germany, and Switzerland, hidden by spells from mundane eyes. The Dark War had ravaged its capital city of Alicante, which was still being rebuilt.

Lucie laughed, a clue, as Tiberius would say, head stuck in a detective novel. Missing Ty suddenly, she reached to start up the car.

"Did you really tell that faerie that you broke up with Cameron and not the other way around?" Cristina said.

"Please don't bring that up," Emma said. "I'm not proud of it."

Cristina snorted. It was remarkably unladylike.

"I saved your butt out there," I point at her before crawling into the back of the truck. "You owe me,"

"I already owe you my life," Emma sigh sliding into the passenger seat. "What else do you want? The name of my first born child,"

"Yes,"

"Can you come to my room after we get back?" Emma continued, flicking on the headlights. "I want to show you something."

Cristina frowned. "It isn't a strange birthmark or a wart, is it? My abuela said she wanted to show me something once, and it turned out to be a wart on her—"

"It's not a wart!" Emma pulled the car out and merged with the rest of the traffic, Lucie was hit with a pang of exhaustion.

Now, though, Emma was about to show Cristina something that no one but Julian and Lucie had ever seen. Something Emma herself wasn't exactly proud of but was amazing to Lucie.

She couldn't help wondering how Cristina would take it.

Lucie clears her throat once they reach the first red light, making the other girls look back at her.

"We're calling him Gerbert,"

 **enjoy pls nd thnx**


	3. Chapter Two

**CHAPTER TWO: "SWEET, LITTLE CORDELIA,"**

"Julian calls it my Wall of Crazy," Emma said.

Emma, Lucie and Cristina were standing in front of the closet in Emma's bedroom, the door of which was propped wide open.

The closet was empty of clothes. Emma's wardrobe, mostly vintage dresses and jeans she'd picked up in secondhand stores in Silver Lake and Santa Monica, was either hung in her armoire or folded in her dresser. The inside walls of the closet in her blue-painted room were covered in photographs, newspaper clippings, and sticky notes in Emma's cramped handwriting.

"Everything is colour coded," she said, indicating the sticky notes. "Stories from mundane newspapers, research into spells, research into demonic languages, things I've managed to get out of Diana over the years . . . It's everything I've ever found that connects to my parents' deaths."

Cristina moved closer to examine the walls, then swung around suddenly to stare at Emma. "Some of these look like official Clave files."

"They are," Emma said. "Lucie stole them from the Consul's office in Idris when she was shipped there."

"You stole these from Jia Penhallow?" Cristina looked horrified. Lucie she couldn't blame her. The Consul was the highest elected official in the Clave—only the Inquisitor came close in terms of power and influence.

"Where else was I going to get photos of my parents' bodies?" Emma asked, shrugging off her jacket and tossing it onto her bed.

"So the pictures Lucie took tonight—where do they go?"

Cristina handed them to Emma. They were still damp with toner—the first thing they'd done when they'd gotten back to the Institute was print out the two clearest photos of the alleyway body from Lucie's phone. Emma leaned in and pinned them carefully beside the Clave photos of her own parents' bodies—dimmed with time now and curling at the edges.

Lucie looked from one to the other. The markings were ugly, spiky, hard to concentrate on. They seemed to push back against being viewed.

"So now what?" Cristina said. "I mean, what is your plan for what to do next?"

"I'll see what Diana says tomorrow," Emma said. "If she found out anything. Do the Silent Brothers already know about the murders Rook was talking about? If they don't, I'll go back to the Shadow Market. I'll dig up whatever money I've got, or owe Johnny Rook a favor—I don't care. If someone's killing people now and covering their bodies with this writing, then it means—it means Sebastian Morgenstern didn't kill my parents five years ago. It means I'm right, and their deaths were something else."

"It might not mean exactly that, Emma." Cristina's voice was gentle.

"I'm one of the few people alive who saw Sebastian Morgenstern attack an Institute," said Emma. "I saw him. Saw his face, his eyes when he looked at me. It's not that I don't think he could have killed my parents. He would have killed anyone who stood in his way. It's just that I don't think he would have bothered." Her eyes got teary. "I just have to get more proof. Convince the Clave. Because as long as this is laid at Sebastian's door, the real murderer, the person responsible, won't be punished. And I don't think I could stand that."

"Emma." Cristina touched Emma's arm lightly with her hand. "You know I think the Angel has a plan for us. For you. And whatever I can do to help you, I will."

Lucie laughed. To Cristina, Raziel was a living presence. Around her throat she wore a medallion consecrated to the Angel. Raziel was etched on the front, and there were words written in Latin on the back: Blessed be the Angel my strength, who teaches my hands to war, and my fingers to fight.

Cristina touched her medallion often: for strength, before an exam, before a battle. In many ways, Lucie envied Cristina with her faith. Sometimes she thought the only things she had faith in were revenge and Cristina.

Emma leaned back against the wall, paper and sticky notes rough against her bare shoulder. "Even if it means breaking the rules? I know you hate that."

"I am not as boring as you seem to think." Cristina hit Emma's shoulder lightly in mock offense. "Anyway, there is nothing more we can do tonight. What would take your mind off things? Bad movies? Ice cream?"

"Introducing you to the Blackthorns," Emma said, pushing off the wall of the closet.

"But they're not here." Cristina looked at Emma as if worried she'd hit her head.

"They aren't and they are." Emma held out her hand. "Come with me."

"That's my queue to leave," Lucie chuckled, sliding out of the door and into the empty hall.

The corridor was all wood and glass, the windows giving out onto what during the daytime were vistas of sea and sand and desert. Lucie had thought when she moved into the Institute that eventually the views wouldn't faze her anymore, that she wouldn't be surprised every night she did patrols to see the bright stars littering the night sky. That hadn't happened.

She could see the gleam of the moon and stars through the stained glass now: silver and black.

Lucie pushed open the door to her room and stripped off her clothes. After pulling a new set of jeans from her wardrobe, she strutted into the bathroom and took her well needed shower.

Pulling the leather belt tighter on her waist, Lucie slides in her last blade before leaving her room and making her way to the grand staircase.

From the landing you could see that the white and black tiles that patterned the floor formed the shape of the Angel Raziel, rising from the waters of Lake Lyn in Idris, holding two of the Mortal Instruments—a flashing sword and a gold-encrusted cup.

It was an image every Shadowhunter child knew. A thousand years ago the Angel Raziel had been summoned by Jonathan Shadowhunter, the father of all Nephilim, to put down a plague of demons. Raziel had gifted Jonathan with the Mortal Instruments and the Gray Book, in which all runes were inscribed. He had also mixed his blood with human blood and given it to Jonathan and his followers to drink, allowing their skin to bear runes and creating the first of the Nephilim. The image of Raziel rising was sacred to Nephilim: It was called the Triptych and was found in places where Shadowhunters met or where they had died.

The image on the floor of the Institute's entryway was a memorial. When Sebastian Morgenstern and his faerie army had stormed the Institute, the floor had been plain marble.

Every time Lucie walked on it, she was reminded of her parents and of Julian's father. She didn't mind—she didn't want to forget.

"When you said they are and they aren't, did you mean because Arthur was here?" Cristina asked. She was looking thoughtfully down on the Angel.

"Definitely not." Arthur Blackthorn was the head of the Los Angeles Institute. At least, that was his title. He was a classicist, obsessed with the mythology of Greece and Rome, constantly locked in the attic with bits of old pottery, moldering books, and endless essays and monographs. Lucie didn't think she'd ever seen him take a direct interest in a Shadowhunter issue. She could count on one hand the number of times she and Cristina had seen him since Cristina's arrival at the Institute. "Although I'm impressed you remember he lives here."

Cristina rolled her eyes.

"Emma stop,"

"What am I doing now?" Emma groans and turns to look at Lucie with a raised eyebrow. "And where are you going?"

"You are being vindictive, and I'm doing night patrols,"

"She's really going to go see Cavill,"

"Who?" Cristina asks, turning to look at her.

"Nobody," I hiss at Emma. "I always do evening patrols, you're just never active this late,"

"Who's Cavill?" Cristina interrupts. "Mind telling me?"

"Lucie's vampire 'friend'" Emma giggles, wiggling her eyebrows at Lucie's grimacing face.

"A vampire?"

"He's a great guy," Lucie flicks Emma on the forehead. "Stop looking at me like that, do you know how hard it is to be around you 24/7. I need some sort of escape. Either way, I'm pretty sure you have training to do Emma,"

"You're a buzzkill," Emma groans, playfully falling back towards Cristina. "Use protection, sweet cheeks,"

"Emma!"

"Is that my darling Cordelia?" A mellow voice sounds through the home as Lucie opens the door. Stepping into Cavill's home was like stepping into another land.

Through his many years of life he's collected small things that travel with him, the magnificent painting and antiques that line the walls could leave you in a daze for years.

"You know I don't like that name," Lucie calls back, her eyes once again entranced by the floating candles throughout the entry way.

"It is your first name, is it not?" His chair spins from facing the fireplace to facing Lucie as she walked into the main room.

"Why the accent?" She huffs out, slipping her coat off and hanging it onto the skeletal coat hanger. "It's not that attractive,"

"Wow, thanks," He mumbles out, patting his lap in a 'come here' motion. "Join the party, I was reading Wilde,"

"Don't know who he is, so I don't think I'll be joining you for that," His wide grin melts into a faux pout. "On the other hand…"

"Darling, my chambers is always open,"

From the moment she reached the door of the institute, Lucie knew something was wrong. Pulling the seraph blade from her back pocket, she takes tentative steps towards the door. Inhaling sharply, she unlocks the door slightly, just enough to fit her body through, before sliding it closed.

Voices flittered through the entrance way, Lucie was still a little too encompassed in the dark to see any figures. She thought she heard Dru's high, soft voice raised in a question, and Livvy answering, but quickly dismissed it know demons could manipulate voices.

And then she was there, in the entry arch of the institute, mouth drawn open in shock. The space was lit up as if it were daytime by a myriad of swirling colours, remnants of a vanishing Portal. In the center of the room stood the Blackthorns: Julian towering over the fifteen-year-old twins, Livvy and Ty. Beside them was Drusilla, holding the hand of the youngest, Tavvy. He looked asleep on his feet, his curly head against Dru's arm, his eyes closed.

"You're back!" Emma cried.

Everyone looked up at her. The Blackthorns had always been a family with a strong resemblance to each other: They shared the same wavy dark-brown hair, the color of bitter chocolate, and the same blue-green eyes. Though Ty, with his gray eyes, skinny frame, and tousled black hair, looked as if he'd wandered in from another branch of the family.

She darted down the stairs. Julian was bending to say something to Dru. Then he turned and took several quick strides toward Emma. They collided in the middle of the foyer, and she threw her arms around him. "Jules," she said, but the sound was muffled against his shoulder as he hugged her back.

Then he let her go and stepped back.

Emma nearly unbalanced. She obviously hadn't expected either quite such a tight hug or such a quick shove away.

"I thought you were coming tomorrow morning," Lucie smiled, walking into the light of the foyer. Multiple screams of her name in joyous tones, had her face lighting up like a Christmas tree. She fell onto her knees and embraced all the hugs given to her by the blackthorn children.

"Malcolm showed up early," Julian said to her, over his shoulder. "Suddenly appeared in Great-Aunt Marjorie's kitchen, wearing pajamas. Said he'd forgotten the time difference. She screamed the house down."

Lucie felt the tension in her chest easing. Malcolm Fade, the head of the warlocks of Los Angeles, was a family friend, and his eccentricity was an old joke between her, Emma and Julian.

"Then he accidentally Portaled us to London instead of here," Livvy announced, bounding forward to hug Emma. "And we had to hunt someone down to open another Portal—Diana!"

Livvy detached herself from Emma and went to greet her tutor. For a few moments, everything was welcoming hubbub: questions and hellos and hugs. Tavvy had woken up and was wandering around sleepily, tugging on people's sleeves. Emma ruffled his hair.

"You're missing teeth," Lucie told him Tavvy when he grinned at her. "Careless of you."

"Dru told me that faeries steal your teeth while you're sleeping," Tavvy said.

"That's because that's what Emma told her," Lucie said, rising to her feet.

"You're all so tanned," Diana was saying. "How are you all so tanned? I thought it rained all the time in England!"

"I don't have a tan," said Tiberius matter-of-factly. It was true, he didn't. Ty detested the sun. Something he and Lucie shared. When they all went to the beach he was usually to be found under a terrifyingly huge umbrella, reading a detective story.

"Great-Aunt Marjorie made us train outside all day," Livvy said. "Well, not Tavvy. She kept him inside and fed him bramble jelly."

"Tiberius hid," said Drusilla. "In the barn."

"It wasn't hiding," said Ty. "It was a strategic retreat."

"It was hiding," said Dru, a scowl spreading across her round face. Her braids stuck out on either side of her head like Pippi Longstocking's.

"Don't argue with your brother," said Lucie, and turned to Ty. "Don't argue with your sister. You're both tired."

"What does being tired have to do with not arguing?" asked Ty.

"Lucie means you should all be asleep," Diana said.

"It's only eight o'clock," Emma protested. "They just got here!"

Diana pointed. Tavvy had curled up on the floor and was asleep in the angled beam of light from a lamp, exactly like a cat. "It's considerably later in England."

Livvy stepped forward and picked up Tavvy gently. His head lolled against her neck. "I'll put him to bed."

Julian's eyes met Diana's briefly. "Thanks, Livvy," he said. "I'll go tell Uncle Arthur we got in all right." He looked around and sighed. "We can deal with luggage in the morning. Everybody, bedtime."

Livvy grumbled something; Something that Lucie chose to ignore. Her eyes searched for Tys and once both sets had connected, she winked at him to which he winked back.

Making sure to be the last person up the stairs and into their room, Lucie got into her nightgown and waited exactly eleven minutes before leaving her room, a robe wrapped around her body, and entered Tys room.

"So," She drawls out, shuffling around his piles of books to plant herself on the claimed rocking chair. "How was it?"

"It was okay," He mumbles, tucking his legs under him. "I mean, the training was significantly harder but it was the same as being here. I missed you though, it's not the same listening to Aunt Marjorie nagging us,"

"I do not nag,"

"Yes you do," He sighs, pulling his duvet over his shoulders. "It was torturous listening to Julian talk about how much he missed Emma but overall, yeah it was decent,"

"Same on this end," Lucie curls up onto the chair. "Emma wouldn't shut up about him and now with Cristina here she-"

Hearing light snores echoing through the room, Lucie chuckles and smiles before standing up and pushing Tys body down on the bed. Pulling the covers from his steel grip, she pulls them up over his shoulders and pats his hair down before leaving the room.

The walk back to her room seemed longer and more drawn out, her body for once dreading the idea of sleep. Adrenaline ran through her veins, nobody actually understood how badly she wanted to punch something.

But she chose against it, instead decided to force herself to sleep.

 **thnx for d read ma dood**


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